Eve of the Half Moon
by Mischa1
Summary: Each candle represented a life, evaporating into time.


Eve Of The Half Moon  
by Mischa  
mischablue@iprimus.com.au  
  
Rating: G  
Category: VA  
Spoilers: Nothing specific; general knowledge up to NIHT.  
Summary: Each candle represented a life, evaporating into  
time.  
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine; they are the  
property  
of 1013 and co, and no infringement is intended.  
Archival: All you have to do is drop me a line and ask.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
The last time she had stepped into a church on Christmas Eve  
had been years ago. What was once a tradition had become a  
sporadic event. Scully breathed in the rich thick scent of   
melting wax as strains of carol singing reached her ears. A   
wry smile quirked at her lips. If she could carry a tune,   
she might have joined them.  
  
She knelt at the aisle and placed William's bassinet beside  
her, crossing herself in front of the hanging crucifix.   
Smatters of people lined the pews. Not as many as she last   
remembered from church services, but perhaps they were all   
at home with their families, commemorating. //Or opening   
presents//, she amended, almost smiling again.  
  
Christmas Eve came with a half moon this year, promising the  
new with the old, the light with the dark. Standing outside   
the small church with William in her arms, staring up through   
the clouds at the moon suspended in the sky, she remembered a  
time when lunar phases were clearly marked in her calendar.   
When telescopes were a gift hard earned. Snow had patted her   
upturned face with its soft flakes, and she could have stayed  
out there until she shivered. William had stirred in her arms,  
grasped for the tiny flakes of white, and Scully had taken that  
as her cue to move inside.  
  
"Gloria, gloria, in excelsius deo..."  
  
A clear, round soprano note soared above the voices of the  
choir as Scully rose and lifted the bassinet. She could have   
spent Christmas with her family this year, with Skinner, with  
John, with Monica who had apparently organised quite the  
gathering. Perhaps she would join one of them later... but somehow   
she felt the need for this solitary time, a return to her roots.  
  
Maybe it was the half moon that triggered it. A crossroads  
between old and new, and she was standing on the threshold.  
She remembered conversations with Missy by campfires, years ago.  
  
"Do you think a moon could ever be half-empty, Dana?"  
  
"That's the pessimist's view, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, but if they call a bright moon a full moon..."  
  
"If they call no moon a new moon, wouldn't this be half-old,  
too?"  
  
"Half old, half new, empty, full, who cares, really? It's  
the halfway mark. It's the bridge."  
  
"Yeah. The bridge."  
  
Even as she faced more situations in her work that made her  
question her beliefs, Scully refused to escape her upbringing.  
There was a comfort in the ritual of the church as much as  
there were restrictions within it. She found herself recalling   
all the old doctrines and habits with ease. Still a doubt   
remained that she couldn't easily pray away. She had seen...   
many things... how could she still believe? What did she   
believe in now? How much of what she had lived on once had   
been based on blind belief, and how had her need for evidence  
compromised that?  
  
She thought of a rubbing of a mysterious metal panel with  
strange powers, of how it represented Genesis and the human   
genome. The foundations of religion and science, combined   
in a single alien craft. Scully wondered if she was just a  
hypocrite for staying here, for continuing to utter prayers  
to a deity she didn't completely believe existed anymore.  
  
Scully ducked into one of the rear pews, rocking William  
slightly as he dozed. Her gaze drawn to the small but   
conspicuous signs dotting the aisles.  
  
//Keep your belongings safe and with you at all times,// she  
read. //Professional beggars operate here.//  
  
Scully knew she had faced worse than professional beggars  
before, but she was glad of the forewarning as much as the  
thought saddened her. As the few church attendees stepped   
forward to take communion, she considered her options in   
taking William and the carry case up with her.  
  
She ended up taking everything up with her, feeling more   
awkward than she had in months. Scully felt eyes on her   
as she approached and lifted her chin proudly. Yes, this  
was her son. Yes, she was alone. But Dana Scully could   
survive, and so could William; she wouldn't have it any  
other way.  
  
She accepted the communion, and as she did so felt its  
responsibility press on her heart.  
  
//Lord God I am not worthy to receive you, only say the word  
and I shall be healed.//  
  
Blind belief, yet she continued to rely on evidence.  
  
The father leaned over and blessed William, and Scully felt  
tears pricking at her eyes. They shared a smile and Scully   
stepped to the left to acknowledge the crucifix hanging along   
the far wall, crossing herself again as her child cooed.  
  
"Shh," she hushed him, and moved back towards the pew to  
utter a quick prayer.  
  
Scully found herself staring speechlessly at the flawed wood   
of the pew in front of her, mind blank of a prayer. In her   
mind instead came an apology, a wave of regret. Her eyes  
fluttered closed.  
  
//I *wanted* to say a prayer, but only this came: I would  
fight to keep us all safe, even if the notion no longer   
exists.//  
  
She was at another bridge, right there.  
  
Between belief, and something... something else.  
  
She swallowed past the dull ache in her throat and quickly  
gathered her bag and her son, heading towards the small side  
room containing a statue of the Virgin Mary and the altars of  
candles.  
  
"You see that, William?" she whispered to him, gathering him  
in her arms and resting the empty bassinet against her feet.  
"Look at all those lights..."  
  
Scully had always loved the candles, the idea that each of  
them somehow represented a life that could be prayed for.   
Billy had tried to scare her when she was young, saying   
that guidance only lasted as long as the candles did.   
Although she had believed it for a time, it also meant she  
visited the local church far more often to keep their   
candles burning.  
  
Charlie had been the one to find out about the real reason  
for her frequent trips outside the home, and when Bill found   
out Dana was renewing his own candles he stopped being a   
bully for a week or two. By then, Father McCue had pulled   
her aside and listened to her fears.  
  
"I'm afraid, Father."  
  
"Of what, Dana?"  
  
"That if I let the candles burn out, God will stop  
watching."  
  
Yet even now as she lit every wick she still believed each  
candle represented a life, evaporating into time. Her father,  
Missy, Emily, Mom and Bill and Charlie. Monica Reyes. John   
Doggett. Walter Skinner. Fox Mulder.  
  
"May God keep you safe," she whispered.  
  
She lit a candle for herself. When the wick on William's  
candle flared alight Scully couldn't help but hope it never,   
ever extinguished.  
  
As she departed, the line of candles continued their soft  
weeping. Ivory teardrops slid to the warm metal supports. In  
time, they would all melt into one, brought together by the  
truth that they were all mortals, made of the same blood and  
flesh. In time, they would be replaced by other candles, by   
other wishes, by other truths.  
  
The doors closed behind her with a solid thud. She looked up  
at the bright patch in the grey sky, where the moon was   
concealed by the passing clouds.  
  
"It's half-full, Missy," she said. "Merry Christmas."  
  
Swaddled in his blankets, William mumbled something in that  
universal, unknown tongue that all babies spoke. Scully  
looked down at him and smiled. Perhaps she would stop by a   
friend's place tonight, to bring together solitary worlds.   
They could reminisce.  
  
She nodded, and moved down the broad stone steps towards her  
car. Dana Scully was a woman with purpose, and she couldn't   
stand around and watch the candles cry.  
  
~ END  
  
  
I wish a safe and happy holiday season to all. Thank you for  
reading. :-) 


End file.
